


from my fingertips there's lightning

by highfalutin baby birb (fevered_dreams)



Category: Fire Emblem: Kakusei | Fire Emblem: Awakening
Genre: Canon Compliant, Fluff, Getting Together, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Male My Unit | Reflet | Robin, Minor Violence, Pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-04
Updated: 2018-11-04
Packaged: 2019-08-17 09:45:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,803
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16513964
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fevered_dreams/pseuds/highfalutin%20baby%20birb
Summary: Robin doesn’t mind using a sword. He even enjoys it sometimes.That is, he does until he starts fighting alongside Chrom."I'm sorry," Robin mutters. He's looking straight at Frederick now, but the image of Chrom still gilds the side of his eye like a permanent sty that bleeds blue. "I was... momentarily distracted."





	from my fingertips there's lightning

Robin knows how to use a sword. He might even be fairly decent at wielding a sword, even if the first one he uses is a rusted bronze sword that can barely slide through the blood-tinged air without leaving a dull streak in its wake.

Except that’s wrong.

This isn’t his first time wielding a sword. It can’t be because Robin already knows exactly how to hold the hilt and how to swing his arm for the fastest stroke. He needs to, to avoid getting hit first. It’s a game, in a way - to get in the first strike and to keep away far enough to keep his legs intact. Strategy, in general, is not much more than a high-stakes game.

Know thy enemy, and you might survive. Don’t charge in recklessly; don’t swing too far because it’ll leave you open and make you slow. Keep away from lancers because they’ll always get the advantage with their long reach, quick jabs, and pointed sneers.

Make sure not to trip or fall. Watch out for the little mud pockets that always remain.

When in doubt, let Frederick take care of things and, above all, make sure Chrom stays safe.

He’s the prince, after all - important. He needs to be shielded, protected. He might not even be any prince of Robin’s, but Robin needs _someone_  to cling onto when he has nothing else, or he’ll go mad.

It’s a very close thing already.

His head hurts.

And it’s not hard to cling onto Chrom. He had been the first thing Robin could remember, a shining being that looked like more than a man, swathed with light and bathed in a casual grace that Robin could hardly tear his eyes away from.

The sign of the exalt stands bright on his shoulder, and Robin knows it means something even when he knows nothing. It catches his eye, pulls on Robin’s gaze and holds on tight until the image melts into the back of Robin eye’s. It’s scary but also enchanting.

Red and framed with smooth skin.

Stunning.

Then, Robin’s eyes fly to Chrom’s face and all its boyish handsomeness tempered with masculinity. Sometimes, when they’re in the midst of battle, Robin just looks at Chrom. He looks at Chrom’s face and can hardly keep track of what’s in front of him because his head hurts, and he wants the lifeline that is Chrom.

Usually, it’s not a problem. Usually, Robin fights just fine, even with a few distractions.

Usually, Robin does not get blindsided by enemy reinforcements.

Robin is not bad with a sword.

He’s not exceptional with a sword.

The bandit charges towards him from behind, far quicker than Robin expects based on his frame. He wields an ax, which should give Robin the advantage, but Robin stumbles with the vision of Chrom’s blue hair stuttering in the corner of his eye as the adrenaline strikes through him.

He’s too off-kilter to dodge the next attack, so he only hopes that it won’t hurt too much because Lissa is too far to help in spite of how clear her scream sounds.

But, before the downward fell of the ax can reach him, there is shining blue and stunning red. The mark is in his eyes again, and Robin’s sure that his ailing mind is playing strange tricks on him.

The pain never comes. Chrom really does stand tall before Robin, cape billowing, legs braced, and Falchion gleaming. Robin’s not even sure where his attacker is anymore with Chrom standing taller than life.

It’s uncertainty at its finest, which Robin usually loathes even at its crudest, but Robin doesn’t mind it too much for now. He’s too far caught up in awe for that.

“I’ve got you, Robin!” Chrom declares. He sounds like the prince he’s meant to be, and Robin blinks at that.

Chrom smiles down at him with the mysterious ax-wielder sprawled against the grass, and Robin almost reels from how quickly everything began and ended. The assailant is dead, probably. That doesn't really matter, though, when Chrom is alive.

Robin, too, is alive.

"Robin!"

And that's Frederick, rushing over to them. He strikes down the enemies sprawled in-between with little trouble, and as expected, there are no bandits left standing after Frederick is finished with them.

"What were you doing?" Frederick demands.

Robin stands up shakily and brushes the matted dirt streaking his robes, wet and sticky. It's his turn on laundry duty tonight, which he supposes is only fitting.

"I'm sorry," Robin mutters. He's looking straight at Frederick now, but the image of Chrom still gilds the side of his eye like a permanent sty that bleeds blue. "I was... momentarily distracted."

"You say that is if being momentarily distracted didn't almost cost you your life." Frederick frowns, and Robin gets it because he'd do the same. "What, exactly, distracted you so much from an enemy standing right in front of you?"

Robin opens his mouth, almost ready to spout off some ridiculous excuse, but then Chrom is beside him, clapping a warm and good natured hand on Robin's shoulder.

"Oh, it's fine, isn't it Frederick?" Chrom asks lightly. "We're fine."

"That's only because you were there to help him," Frederick sniffs.

"As I should've been as his comrade," Chrom replies. "So, all's well that ends well, no?"

Frederick sighs because sometimes there's no arguing with the prince. Robin knows as much because he, too, somtimes has a hard time convincing Chrom that it's unsafe to go against bandits by himself, petty as they may be.

There's just something about Chrom that is everything.

Afterwards, they all scurry away from the battlefield with wearied legs and empty bottles of vulnerary. Robin's keeps his strides long in spite of the ache in his leg because he wants a nice bath to soak through him before he has to go and help with laundry.

Except, before he can do so, Chrom is in front of him once again.

Chrom’s all cleaned and freshened up with the slight hint of mild soap wafting off of him, pretty amongst the sleepy wounds of the others around them. Chrom smiles, and Robin smiles back.

"So," Chrom begins, plucking absently at some of the sheets Robin has strewn about his desk, filled with aborted tactical plans. They can’t all be winners, after all. "What exactly did happen out there?"

Robin's smile slips a bit, and he nearly swallows his tongue.

"I told you," Robin whispers. "I got a bit distracted at the worst moment possible."

"That's not like you, though," Chrom says. "You're usually always aware of what's going on around us. That’s why you’re our tactician, after all."

"I know," Robin says. "It was irresponsible of me to lose sight of the battle like that. I promise, I won't _ever_ let that happen again. I won't endanger the army like that again."

"Peace, Robin. I didn't come here to scold you. I know you've already berated yourself far better than I ever could. I simply came here to suggest that perhaps we start battling together."

Robin blinks. "You mean, you think the two of us should start pairing up?"

Chrom shrugs. "Why not? I know that you tend to fight alone, but I think it'd benefit you to have someone watching your back more closely, just in case. You may be our brilliant tactician, but you're only human, too."

"But you and Sumia have formed such solid teamwork together," Robin says. "I'd hate to ruin that by splitting the two of you apart."

"Sumia will be fine without me, I'm sure."

Once again, Robin doesn't know how to argue against Chrom. So, in their next battle, he rushes into the fray with Chrom by his side, and Robin does have to admit that it's nice.

It's nice, having someone so competent and charismatic by his side. Even their enemies, for a moment, look at Chrom with admiration, and Robin is not surprised in the slightest. They even work together well within their first few fights together; Chrom is ever-vigilant and doesn't hesitate at all when following Robin's instructions even though Chrom is the prince and Robin is nobody with nothing.

He blocks so many of the attacks that are meant for Robin and uses the parry to power his own downward arc, sign of the exalt stinging through the air. Robin does his best to do the same, rewarded by Chrom's pleased smile and the sight of him safe and sound.

Overall, Chrom is an excellent fighter, and he wields a sword with far more finesse than Robin.

Still, Robin continues to use his sword because he enjoys the weight of the blade, now iron, in his hands. He finds a strange brand of comfort in the way it drags him down; it's something solid, he supposes, a physical reminder that he is here, that he's on the right side fighting for hope and justice.

That he is sane.

It sometimes distracts him from the headaches, too, which is a plus.

So, even if Robin isn't as skilled as Chrom, he likes to think that his skills as a swordsman are still worthwhile.

And then, one day, before Robin even realizes it, he discovers that he is mostly mediocre.

He has already broken so many of the rules, all of the tactical pointers he holds onto as a mantra of hope and survival. There’s a soldier in front of him, equipped with a lance, and he moves fast - faster than Robin knows how to effectively deal with. Frederick is nowhere near them, off fighting his own small hoard of enemies. Not to mention, Robin is in the mud.

The scene is a bit dire, but they still have vulneraries. They’ll be fine, Robin is mostly sure.

In the end, it isn’t the soldier that gives them problems.

Robin hears the whistle streak past him before he sees anything. Then, Chrom lets out a horrid scream that tears into Robin’s senses through ringing ears. It burrows deep, eager to stay, and Robin is not sure he wants to look.

He looks.

Chrom is bleeding. The arrow is stuck down deep into his shoulder, and it makes his mark burn even brighter. The reds mingle together, and Robin can’t help his pained gasp even though he’s not the injured one here.

“Chrom!” Robin exclaims. Overhead, an archer astride a pegasus mocks them.

“I’m fine,” Chrom grits out, even though he’s clearly not.

“We should get you a vulnerary,” Robin says hastily.

Chrom shakes his head, grimacing, and Robin can practically taste how his teeth grind together. “No. We don’t have time.”

True to his word, the soldier is upon them. Robin takes him out quickly, spurred on by the smell of blood behind him, and does his best to protect Chrom from more arrows until Ricken takes her out because Robin _can’t_.

Soon enough, Chrom is free to down a vulnerary before jumping right back into the fray. Robin joins him because he must, but now the sword in his hand doesn’t feel comforting anymore.

Later that night, Robin finds Chrom. He’s perfectly fine now, thanks to a fuming Lissa who demanded that Chrom be more careful as she patched him up. He also looks as handsome as always.

“Robin,” Chrom says. He’s smiling once more, though it falters a touch when he looks up at Robin. “Is there something you’d like to discuss?”

“I just… wanted to apologize,” Robin breathes. “For not being able to protect you today.”

Chrom chuckles - easy. “You speak as if I died today.”

“You could have.”

“But I didn’t,” Chrom says. He’s enviably nonchalant.

“But you could have,” Robin repeats. His stance is almost as firm as his voice.

Chrom drops the smile. “Please, Robin, these things happen, even to our wonderful tactician, but we still came out alive. What is the point of beating yourself up over something like this?”

“Because you’re the prince,” Robin says. “I’m supposed to protect you. That’s the only reason I’m here, after all.”

“Oh? I was sure your role is tactician, not bodyguard.”

“I’m your tactician in order to protect you.”

Sighing, Chrom rises. His shoulder is clean of any wounds, Robin sees.

“Robin, please,” Chrom says. He looks tired, all of a sudden, and Robin falters. “I thought that, out of everyone here, you’d be the least likely to treat me as a prince.”

“Pardon?” Robin asks. “But you are the prince.”

“Yes, but I am your comrade first,” Chrom says. He takes a step forward, and, inexplicably, Robin does too. They are surprisingly close, and Chrom brushes his hand against Robin’s arm like an afterthought.

To Robin, however, it feels like center stage.

“A man,” Chrom whispers, and he’s warm. “And your _friend_. I’d greatly prefer to have you think of me as one, as opposed to just some prince you have to protect and coddle.”

It’s slightly off-putting, havibg Chrom stand so close to him for the first time since they met.

Back then, Chrom had been a sight to behold with the gentle sunlight at this back. Now, they’re inside Chrom’s quarters in the encroaching night. Here, the lowlights of the lamps surrounding them make Chrom’s jaw look sharper, and his eyes crackle and pop.

Chrom steps again. Robin meets him. It’s warm between them, and Robin basks in it.

His own quarters are cold when he is alone, so it’s nice to have someone beside him.

“Please,” Chrom says, and it comes out like a halfway formed prayer riding in the eye of a hurricane. “Don’t treat me like that, the way everyone else does.”

Robin doesn’t draw away even though he probably should because, no matter what, Chrom is still the prince. Instead, he welcomes Chrom’s touch. He even leans into it and feels that Chrom is a regular man underneath the mark.

Warm, solid, soft sometimes, but also calloused other times. The pads of Chrom’s hand give way against Robin’s arm, but his fingers are rough.

Still, they don’t feel bad.

“Robin, tell me,” Chrom begins. “How do you view me?”

Robin opens his mouth, ready to respond with a stream of nonsense that begins and ends with, “However you want to be seen, Chrom”. In different words, of course. He still has some sense.

However, before he can, Cordelia is suddenly there, asking Chrom for battle advice. Chrom flounders as he draws away from Robin, and Robin feels too hot now.

“I should go.” Robin’s breath is trapped, snarling against himself. “I’ll keep what you said in mind, though.”

“Robin, wait!” Robin hears Chrom day, but he’s already heading back to his cold, lonely room.

He doesn’t see Chrom again until their next battle. They still fight together with a casual ease that comes from more than practice, but, now, Robin wields a tome. A nearly-forgotten book of thunder that crackles under this fingertips. It’s light- so much lighter than his sword - and it doesn’t feel nearly as comforting in his grip.

It is stronger, however, and Robin easily fells archers and mages alike, even from afar.

“I’m surprised to see you using that again,” Chrom says. "You haven’t carried it with you in quite some time.”

“That’s because it doesn’t stop the headaches,” Robin wants to say.

But he doesn’t because that drags him down too much.

In its place, he says, “I thought it’d be worthwhile to use it again. I didn’t want to get rusty with it.”

Chrom tilts an eyebrow because he knows it’s impossible for Robin to become rusty with this magic; the lightning strikes far to readily from Robin’s fingertips for that. Regardless, Chrom says nothing. He simply nods, and they continue.

In the end, Robin is a storm to be reckoned with, and Chrom comes out of the fray unscathed. Robin grips the tome close to himself and lets himself feel satisfied as an archer atop her pegasus falls before she can reach Chrom.

“You were fantastic out there today,” Chrom says later. They’re both in Robin’s quarters, and Chrom towers above Robin where he sits, once again bathed in light and gleaming. “I’m glad you were on my side.”

“Thank you,” Robin responds, “and I’m glad.”

“Though you were a bit hastier than usual. Rushing up in battle against that mage wasn’t the wisest decision, especially considering the fact that we were too far for me to be much help.”

Robin shrugs. The bottom of his skin still alights with the lingering lightning sparks, and he resists the urge to shake it off. “It was fine. They got in a lucky hit, but, otherwise, it wasn’t too bad.”

Chrom frowns. “Robin, I surely hope you didn’t go through such a risk for my sake.”

“Please, Chrom, aren’t you thinking a bit too highly of yourself right now?”

With the cross of his arms, Chrom refuses to let up, and Robin folds.

“Look, I can’t help it, ok?” Robin blisters. “I know you’re just a person, like me and the rest of us, and you are my friend, but you’re still the prince. You’re important.”

“And you’re not?”

“That’s not what I meant,” Robin argues. “I’m just saying, you can’t deny that your life holds more weight than so many of ours in the grand scheme of things.”

“I don’t agree with that at all,” Chrom says curtly.

“I know you don’t, but that’s just the way it is.” Robin knows he can’t win against Chrom, but, at the very least, he doesn’t want to lose this time. “It’s not about me trying to get myself killed for your sake. It’s just me trying my best to protect you for _everyone’s_ sake, even if that means taking a few hits every now and again.”

Chrom takes it in with clear dissatisfaction. Robin stares straight on with pure determination. Neither of them emerge victorious.

Eventually, Chrom grits out, “I wish you wouldn’t think like that.”

“Even you can’t always get what you want.”

Chrom scrunches his nose, and Robin must admit that it’s cute. It’s just a shame that it only appears because Chrom is upset.

“Robin,” Chrom says again. “Do you really think I’d be happy with that? Happy with knowing that you’re always thinking about ways to protect me first and yourself second?”

“But hasn’t it always been like that? I’d think you’d be more accustomed to it by now.”

“I could never be.”

Silence. It touches them for some time before Chrom speaks again.

“Robin, be honest with me. How do you really feel, having to watch out for me in the battlefield like that?”

Robin cocks his head to the side because the question is almost incomprehensible to him. “What do you mean?”

“I mean, what goes through your mind?” Chrom asks. “Do you find it bothersome. Do you resent me?”

Robin’s head tilts even more. “Resent you? How could I?”

“You have to always look out for me. You said as much yourself.”

“Yeah, but that’s because I want to,” Robin says.

“Because I’m the prince,” Chrom says, curt and cutting straight through them.

Robin swallows. “Yes, but that’s not… that’s not the only reason.”

“What other reason is there?”

“Because you’re my friend, and I want to protect and you and everyone else here I consider my friend. Because you’re important and special,” Robin replies, and his voice suddenly comes out in a barely coherent rush of this and that that could probably fell a wyvern with how fast it flows out of him - uncontrollable.

He’s looking down at the mark on Chrom’s shoulder, but he still only sees blues.

“Because I couldn’t imagine -“ Robin continues even though he probably shouldn’t, “I couldn’t imagine what I’d do if something did happen to you. You’re too important to me.”

Movement, seemingly small, draws Robin’s gaze back up, and Chrom is suddenly so close and so warm.

Blue.

Robin likes the color blue, he’s decided.

“I feel the same way about you,” Chrom breathes. His hand floats up and over Robin’s arm, and, even through his robe, Robin can feel the heat. “The thought of you being injured - or even worse - during a fight terrifies me.” His hand moves up, and Robin moves closer with it. “Truly.”

Robin feels lightheaded, but he doesn’t keel over like he expects. Instead, he says, “You sound like you’re making some horrible confession like that.”

“Horrible? Was it that bad?”

Perhaps Robin should be correcting Chrom, reminding him of the ‘confession’ part of that sentence that probably needs to be addressed and disputed. He doesn’t. “It was ok. Could’ve used a bit more flair, though.”

“As if yours was any better,” Chrom teases.

It’s strange, this whole thing. Robin’s also sure that this is one more thing he should be correcting Chrom about, even if Chrom isn’t exactly wrong.

Once again, Robin says nothing on the contrary.

“You just copied mine,” Robin argues. He presses closer again, and feels Chrom’s hand move up to the base of his neck. At the moment, Chrom isn’t wearing his gloves, and Robin basks in the feeling of Chrom’s finger wrapped loosely around the baby hairs at the base of his neck.

“Sorry. I was too caught up in how good you look to come up with anything else.”

Now, it’s _definitely_ strange. Maybe it’s even a dream. Either way, Robin rolls with it with an incredulous laugh because it's kinda fun.

“Who knew someone as painfully honest as you could ever come up with such sly words?” Robin asks.

“What do you mean? I told no lies tonight,” Chrom whispers.

“You’re ridiculous.”

It’s dark. The camp is quiet. Even Olivia, whose soft chimes can sometimes be heard when she dances in the dark, is silent. Asleep.

“We should get some rest,” Robin says. “It’s late.”

Chrom agrees, but he doesn’t leave, and Robin doesn’t really want him to. Chrom settles down beside Robin in bed, half-dressed in his regular gear because none of Robin’s sleep clothes fit him. Regardless, Chrom doesn’t complain, and he falls asleep quickly after pressing a small, dry kiss to Robin’s nape.

Quietly, and when he is absolutely positive that Chrom is deep asleep, Robin gives Chrom his own kiss against the hollow of Chrom’s throat; there, he can feel Chrom breathe in time with the soft flutter of his heart, and it comforts Robin to feel that Chrom is alive beside him.

It’s so nice that Robin doesn’t even have that nightmare again that night. Of course, the crackle of the thunder still shreds through the veins under his skin and behind his eyes, causing him to beg Miriel for one of her fire tomes the next day, but at least it’s a start.

And Chrom is, as always, stunning.

**Author's Note:**

> wanted to write a story that incorporated some of the gameplay mechanics! i hope it works ok haha
> 
> and i hope the story in general is ok! please let me know :)
> 
> if you want to talk to me or want to know more about how you can support me, you can find me on [tumblr](https://fever-d-dreams.tumblr.com)


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